


sweeter than mango

by meruemsthighs



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pining, Relationship in a career, Russian Skating Family, Scheming, canonish, when you scheme too hard and play yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meruemsthighs/pseuds/meruemsthighs
Summary: Mila doesn't understand why Sara dropped out of skating, but gets herself into more than she bargained for.





	sweeter than mango

**Author's Note:**

> i'm extra and so is this fic but i hope you enjoy!!

It’s completely unintentional, the first time they meet. 

 

There’s a glimmer of recognition in Sara’s eyes, a polite smile in the elevator on their way down to the rink. Mila doesn’t say much. Just a greeting, and asks if Sara’s heading for some late night practice like she is. They  _ were _ competitors before Sara dropped out of the race, and Mila does not have even a fraction of Victor’s sportsmanship to let it go. She hums and Mila turns back to face the doors, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Sara’s tight bun, her casual outfit, and the distinct lack of skates in her hands. 

 

The elevator stops for her before Sara gets out, and Mila tries to push the curiosity out of her head.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Next time, Mila locks eyes with her across a diner over a plate of pancakes piled up to her nose. Yuri sits next to her, digging into eggs and complaining about all of his woes. Mila nods at Sara and waves a bit, fingers curling when Sara waves back. She’s dressed a bit better than the Elevator Incident, as she’s described it to Victor. Her hair cascades down her back in soft curls, white shirt crisp and tight beneath a blue blazer. 

 

“What are you staring at? Hello? I’m trying to tell you why Georgio’s a piece of shit and you won’t even listen to me warning you!” Yuri complains next to her with a mouth full of egg. Mila smacks the hand he’s waving out of her face, and Sara’s gaze turns to Yuri with a strained expression. She turns back to Mila quickly, but it’s already been done, Mila rounds to Yuri for information on any possible beef between them. There’s no reason Sara should be uncomfortable with Yuri, he’s like 12 and doesn’t have the capacity to actually piss off most people, but here she is. 

 

Sara turns away from her to pick up a smoothie from the register, and leaves as quick as she’d come. 

 

 

~*~

 

 

“Come on, Victor. She can’t just be here for her brother. Who does that?” Mila sets her phone on the counter and rubs a makeup wipe over her eyes, blurring Victor’s image for a bit. He sits in Yuuri’s house, with all his lamps on. He’s still annoyingly pretty 0.2 seconds before sleeping, and its that fact that bugs Mila every time they facetime. “She isn’t even skating here!”

 

“Ok, yes, people do that for their family. And how do you know she isn’t skating? You saw her in an elevator once.” Victor says back, laughing. Mila pauses in her determination to remove her 24 hr eyeshadow off to glare. 

 

“Name one person who goes to an event that reminds them of their past career, for family.” She demands, and resumes scrubbing her eyelid when Victor falls quiet. “And she doesn’t practice, so I don’t know if she’ll ever get back to it. Not everyone bounces back like your Yuuri did.” It’s completely true reasoning and the main reason Mila needs to get to the bottom of this. 

 

No one knows why Sara Crispino, one of the best in women’s skating worldwide, had just gotten up and left the competition. It just doesn’t happen. Victor repeats his theory of her leaving because of her brother, but Mila doesn’t buy it. She moves on from her eyes to the rest of her face, careful not to disturb the pins in her hair. 

 

“Did you try talking to her?” Victor yawns, and settles in more comfortable in his bed.

 

“How am I supposed to do that? I’ve only seen her twice here, and she’s definitely not competing. I’d sooner find Yakov feeding Lilia sweets than Sara at a time when I can talk to her. I asked around too. No one’s seen her, not really.” Mila scoffs and shakes her head. 

 

Victor frowns on the screen in front of her and taps his lips. “You could go at it from her brother’s side. Did you ask Yurio?” 

 

Mila nods and grabs another wipe. “I asked him, but he doesn’t care enough to find out for me. And I’m not asking Georgio. Did you know he destroyed my coral blue #2 semigloss eyeshadow when I lent it to him?  _ Destroyed it _ . I’m not talking to him until he gets me another one.”

 

“I knew I recognized it somewhere.” He says, facepalming in relief. Mila nods and plans a way, anything to get Sara on the side. It’s a healthy curiosity to have for a fellow competitor.

 

 

~*~

 

 

There’s a few plans in place to get Sara onto conversational friendly levels with her. She weighs the pros and cons of each idea, going so far as to time it so she has the energy to pull it all off while performing and practicing. The struggle with the plans is that there’s no schedule to do this all to. For all intents and purposes, Sara’s in her city for shits and giggles. 

 

Yuri still refuses to help in this ‘childish fuckery’ and Mila had laughed so hard, she hadn’t asked again. She still laughs to herself about it in the elevator down to the lobby, on her way to pick up a steaming cup of hot chocolate. She also keeps an eye out for anyone looking even similar to Sara. She sips out of it and walks back to the hotel fast, shivering slightly in her pajamas and thin sweater. She’s wrapped in her thoughts of what to bribe Yuri with, turning over ideas of jackets and wallets, if he’d maybe help if she offered to teach Yuri how to drive. Mila doesn’t hear footsteps as she turns around a corner and bumps into someone. Hard.

 

Her hot chocolate splatters everywhere, brown and burning her hands. Mila shakes her hand quickly and bounces back to look up, at Sara, in front of her, pinching her shirt away from her torso. Mila crows with victory inside, just a bit. 

 

“Oh no, are you ok? I’m so sorry.” Mila puts the cup down and pulls a napkin out of her pocket. She dabs it over the stain on Sara’s yellow shirt, doesn’t give attention to the way Sara breathes, her body shifts while Mila tries to get the drink out, as Sara sputters. “No, really, I should’ve heard you and paid more attention.” 

 

“It’s fine.” Sara says, softly, after a beat. Mila stops and she takes the napkin fron her hands to fold the napkin into her shirt and squeeze. It takes a lot of the hot choc out of the fabric, and Mila picks her cup up. 

 

“No, let me do something to say I’m sorry.” Mila insists, already planning a brunch in a bright and sunny location. Sara wrings her shirt out completely, and shakes her head.

 

“You already apologized. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Sara tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Mila nods slowly and just looks at her, taking in striking purple eyes, a blush high on her cheeks, her ruined t shirt, and pajama bottoms. Mila swallows, suddenly aware of how offguard she is. 

 

“Are you sure? I feel bad about your t-shirt. Let me at least do something about that.” Mila asks again. 

 

“You can accept my acceptance of your apology.” Sara raises her brows and smiles, sweet and sure. Mila’s heart stutters a bit, a little slow at being hit with that in such close proximity. “Good luck on your performance tomorrow.” She says after a moment, distinctly genuine, then walks off. 

 

 

~*~

 

 

She does well on her performance and immediately searches the crowds for Sara. She’s a dot in the stands, clapping ferociously, loud next to her brother. Mila bows in her direction once and moves on to the kiss and cry. There’s a skater from China going after her, but Mila goes to the bathroom after her scores come in. 

 

She turns back once she hears her name called out above the muted music in the hallway. Sara speed walks closer to her, determination crystal on her face. It’s such a break from Mila constantly scheming her way to a conversation that she stands there, immobile with shock, staring at the purple dress fluttering around long legs and the twist of Sara’s lips. “Congrats on your score.” She says once she’s within an arms length of her. 

 

“Hi. Thanks, I hope my ranking stays that way.” Mila says, defrosting through the shock. Sara nods in understanding and shifts her weight onto one leg. “I really hope I’m not missing something too crazy haha.” Mila doesn’t mean to sound impatient and accusatory, but by the slight twitch in Sara’s smile, managed to do so anyways. 

 

“I don’t think you are. And even if you were, there’s tapes of the performances to watch later.” Sara points out, tilting her head. “I’m going to be going over them anyways, later, whether I’m watching it live or not.” Sara tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with a laugh. Mila raises her brows at the insinuation.

 

“Do you do that for all the competitions you don’t skate in?” She blurts out, cheeks warming a second after the comment’s out. 

 

Sara’s eyes twinkle a bit and she presses her lips together. “Yes. Especially the ones I don’t skate in.” She leans in closer, and Mila is acutely aware of her own skin, tight in her costume, alive and burning after her program only stoked more by Sara coming closer. 

 

“So you don’t practice, but you’ll watch?” Mila lowers her voice, just to accomodate the new lack of distance. She flushes a little harder at the admission that she’s been watching the people who use the rink, watching Sara in particular. Sara’s eyes travel away from Mila’s around the hallway they’re standing in, deserted except for a few guards and fans. They flit around, taking stock, and return to her with a brightness and weight Mila wasn’t expecting. 

 

“I don’t mind watching.” Sara shrugs. It’s pointed, and Mila’s tongue rolls in her mouth. She doesn’t have anything to say to that. Sara takes her silence with a smug smile, turns on the heel of her foot, and walks back to the arena. Mila stands there long after she’s gone, the cheering from the rink jolting her out of her daze. 

 

She pats a wet tissue over her face and presses her eyes hard into it. When she’s done resembling a tomato, she comes back to the crowds, ignores Yakov, and tries to find Sara. She’s not there, but Mila finds her brother glaring at the ice alone. He seems to sense Mila, and his glare turns sour at her.

 

She huffs and turns back to Yakov, zoning into his scolding in time to hear the tail end of his lecture on sportsmanship, paying attention to fellow competitors. He gives the example of Victor’s fame being pulled out from under him, and Mila carefully doesn’t laugh at the irony. 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> all feedback is appreciated!!


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